Back To the Paint

"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more...Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood...Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height...-Henry V~ Shakespeare

That passage, in its entirety is pretty blood and guts. Seriously life and death, as Prince Hal urges the bloodied English through that wall at Agincort yet again. I'm pretty pensive this week, not at all mercurial, but I gotta splash some paint around fearlessly. The first line kind of popped into my head as I set about setting up the day. We need to feel passion for a performance. Which in the end is what art is. I don't need to be in the heat of a bloody battle, but just dial up somewhere between I am newly discovering this with the brain of a beginner and damn I love that blue, or vermillion, let me at that again, watch how it flows. I need, and we all do need, to summon up our juices when we are doing what we love.

And I am not unconvinced that it works when we are doing something that we may not exactly be thrilled to be doing at the moment. I've had a few of those days too. Getting through one more hour with a particularly chaotic group of young ladies in a project could try the best of my art loving patience. Just say the name Jessica to me and watch me wince. But even the Jessica's of the world have their lessons. ( She actually became a favorite. )

And so today, as I go back into the now dry ( and fully okay after the gremlin thing) Godiva painting, I am needing that passion. I let the painting sift and sit enough that it is fresh again. There's no hint of accident lingering. In fact, I now have the opportunity to do something I had not planned to do, but may in fact work better. And I have something in mind for a new piece that I had pushed way to the back and now comes up to the front after just looking at this piece for awhile. That's what happens when obstacles present themselves. Sometimes that wall is an opportunity. Things change, present themselves differently, sometimes in the form of an obstinate little miss and sometimes in unexpected events. Sometimes those very things turn out to be the victory you were after all along.

So Prince Hal, meet Brush. Ahh, this feels good...boots and saddles people, boots and saddles....

Curating One's Own Self

Yesterday I gained a whole new respect for curators. Oh, I appreciated them before, count some good ones among my acquaintances, but it has gone to a brand new level of awe. You see some art writers I can totally do without, and some gatekeepers could be kicked to the curb, but a good curator that is worth the name, creates a memorable experience with an exhibit. That one, that one makes the exhibit breathe, come to life, and sometimes changes the audience's perception. And that is powerful. Even if it is done in a subtle way.

I owe the late J. Carter Brown at least a half a dozen debts of gratitude for impacting my work in a huge way. One mark, one sequence in presentation, one tidbit of unexpected context, that kind of brilliance is priceless to me. Or the mounting of a particular show at a particular time and place. Sometimes it seems as if that show was meant specifically for me. I learned a lot in school, but I learned more by going to some incredibly well done exhibitions and museums. Some of them changed my life. One mark on a Cezanne "Bathers" canvas created the foundation for most of my work. A show that Brown fought for, sued for and produced, changed my way of looking forever. It happens.

And this week, I find myself in the awkward position of curating my own self. Artists do this to a certain extent when doing a show, creating press materials, doing those gallery presentations. There is usually a message, a core theme. But this time the theme was escaping me. Everything is so, so unsettled. There's the before the storm, the during, and now the seemingly endless adjustment, the after. I was looking for a finite, closed presentation. A nice neat tied up in a bow kind of thing. And that just wasn't happening. That is until I realized I was actually trying to curate my own self. So I started nosing around. I began to look at what exactly a curator does. I read some interviews with some of the greats. And before I am done, I know I will research some more on my favorite, J. Carter Brown. Maybe email David Houston at the Ogden for his view on his role there.

But here is a nugget that I got from a world renown curator Hou Hanru after his shows in Beijing and in Paris:

Exhibitions first and foremost have to be experimental, and should do their utmost not to repeat things that people have seen before - they should give people a new visual experience. That said, a purely visual experience is not enough, there should be new experiences for the mind and body as a whole. Perhaps the most important element in any successful exhibition is its orientation to a certain time and place, its cultural backdrop, its significance within its locale. For me, an exhibition is a special activity, a special event. It is not simply a matter of taking existing works and hanging or installing them. From the choice of theme, artists, and artworks to the actual realisation of the exhibition itself, all of these things represent a living and breathing process.

Well. There. No neat and tidy necessary. In fact that lack of neat and tidy might even be the theme, because that is the truth of the matter. There it is again... the things I don't know, the random, and uncertainty. Seems counterintuitive for a tight piece of presentation, something meant to impress, but it seems like an idea that has become more of a constant. Hm.

I was safely tucked away in my neighborhood, living a life that I so cherished for its cultural richness, the people I saw everyday. I don't know a lot of things. I don't know what's next. But I do know that I am an artist and that's the way, I''ll figure it out. I always thought the work itself should stand alone. And it should. But relevance, meaning, those huge things in the art world, that comes from the context as well. So here we go again. More stories, more writing. Sheesh. We used to save that for talking, over beverages, or dinner...or at a gathering. Storytelling to go with the paint? Who knew?

Have you ever been to an exhibit that just knocked your socks off? Changed your perspective?

"I See Potential For Virtual Assistants Already"

That sound you are hearing is the big guffaw that I am having over myself. I am at that point where rubber meets the road, And I am afraid there are going to be tire tracks all over my back. Seriously, see this small mountain of non painting that I need to do so the painting can get to market? It is not the only stack. There are two notebooks there and 5 more on the shelf, not to mention the other two shelves of "source material" that I need to wade through for "content".

So I was checking the photo to see if anything that should not be public was readable. Oops, potentially one right there. That little blue note on the bottom right hand corner...see, yeah, just down there, the long horizontal sky blue one. It reads: "I see the potential for virtual assistants already. " DUH. And an in person one wouldn't be bad either. Nope not too personal. Just true. I had to laugh. Because the note echoes my feelings at the moment. I am shaking my head, and actually thinking about what Karen Swim said yesterday in comments in response to my routines and ladders post. And I am thinking about those ladders.

When I made the decision to "write " in public, I really did not know what I was getting into. It began as another experiment. Why write? Because throughout my career that has been a sticking point. Artists always need writing about them, about their work , about their process. It was a weakness of mine. Hated that part. I have friends who are writers, very good ones. Pulitzer nominated good. And I had a dear friend intimately involved with publishing the New York Times ( my favorite paper as you know which I STILL haven't read from Sunday and is probably why I am so , uh, out of sorts). Writing and good reading are a huge part of my life. Just as painting is and good art in any form.

So that note made me laugh. It was telling me , hey, you ARE a little swamped. It is okay to feel a little overwhelmed. ( I wrote it to myself after Nick Cernis's review of VA's. ) It is a note to self. So here's the kicker. In painting when I sense a weakness in my technique, or a preference against a certain palette or art form, I try to go toward it. John Scott, (my MacArthur Genius Award mentor ( so he's smart right? ) always said go toward what you don't know, there's where the good stuff is in your work.

So here I am swamped, in the middle of pulling the painting out no matter what is going on. Rebuilding, relearning, readapting to just everything and I am considering this: writing a 50,000 word novel in the month of November. WHAT?! She is absolutely bonkers. Am I nuts? Well I am very tired of all this uncertainty and want to get over myself about this writing thing that has plagued me my entire career. I am going to blame Sean and James and Harry of course. For even putting it in front of me. And maybe all those swaggering alpha male writers I know. We all know they are trouble with a capitol T.

Somehow, it is very tied into the painting. Maybe it is the path to integrating this chapter of my life. I am uncomfortable, I am swamped, I am bursting to get to the next place. The work is stirring around inside me still. Begging to move up a notch, move forward, change, or perhaps just intensify. Perhaps, wrestling a few thousand words will ease the way while I paint. We'll see. I think it is a ladder against one of the walls I'm scaling. And I want that paint, those marks to flow with certainty and confidence born from that place of experience I could not have tapped into a year ago, or even a few months ago. I am kind of shaking at the thought....so I must be on to something. Sheesh.

How do you deal with things you aren't so great at, but need for your work?

Ladder on the Right Wall

"To Do is to Be"~Nietzsche
"To Be is to Do"~Kant
"Do Be Do Be Do"~Frank Sinatra

I recently saw these quotes together in a little book by a former Neiman Marcus executive. Yeah, I liked the third one too. It's rolling around in my head at the moment. As little Ninja and I do our best to get rolling this Monday, he's thinking let's get to it. I am thinking, sheesh, last week was tough. It's kind of chilly, couldn't we have cocoa and stay under the covers today? Nothing went as planned this past week. Even my Sunday was not ordinary. Nice, but my usual ducks in a row stuff was hijacked.

Here's the thing about artists. We like routines. Love them. Oh, not in the studio necessarily, but all that other stuff, we like that to go smoothly. That way, chaos in the studio is fun and creative. No worries. But if there is chaos outside, then that is the day I am most likely to want to sharpen pencils, take an inventory of materials, line up my notebooks, get a grip. You get the picture.

Oh, I got significant things accomplished this past week. I like that. That short order art shelf has thinned quite a bit. And I'll take some time today to line up those ducks, get the 3 Most Important Tasks chosen. But when I don't get a chance to even crack open the Sunday paper, or plot out my week, uh, everything feels off. Routines. It may sound dull and boring, but it is actually the key to getting a lot done. And here's another, making sure the ladder is against the right wall. The one you're trying to scale.

So Ninja is rearing to go, he thinks we're pointed in the right direction. ME? I'm thinking that paper and some cocoa, might be just the thing. It won't be leisurely, but it will feel right. Maybe just a section here and there. Yeah, this day needs to be two days packed into one. Hm, definitely feels like Monday, organizing to be done. And we are so not allowing gremlins by any name to come near any art.

Now Brush, one marshmallow or two? No, get out of the covers. We've work to do, but we can have hot cocoa while we're at it.

Routines and ladders? Sure. Don't you work that way?

Oops, Don't Panic

"Don't panic and always carry a big towel."~Douglas Adams

Yesterday , the electronic gremlins that had plagued me the day before, leaped over to the painting. Yep. Not to worry the spill has been cleaned up and the Godiva painting is drying. Did the dark grey spill in an area where it was going to be painted anyway? No. Did it spill on the pristine almost lightest light there is on the piece? Yes. Now here's another reason I love 300 lb. paper: sometimes you can clean up a disaster before it ruins hours of hard work and an entire painting. As you watch the pigment invade forbidden territory, first rule is DON'T PANIC. Second rule is add water immediately and be glad you were not using Alizarin Crimson. Then there's the towel part. Glad it was handy near by.

Next part. Drink heavily while the painting dries. Not really, but it couldn't hurt. So Godiva is probably going to be fine. Me, I am taking deep breaths and looking for my happy place. Om. Wash the towel. Deep breath.

What Brush? Oh yeah, definitely crush some ice. It's Friday, time to get OUR naughty on. The gremlins... out, out I say. We'll just work on a nice little design project today. What could go wrong with that?

Une, Deux, Trois, Chocolates

Et voila, the chocolates. Since every electronic thing I touched yesterday was wonky: the camera , the computer , the phone.....it was a frustrating day. So painting chocolate was a good foil. Just water and paint. And chocolate. Not much to say about it. You can see for yourself, they are related, but each is different. Kind of like suedes and satin in chocolate brown. Might have to do some detailing in that sprinkle of nuts in the second one. They need some depth.

I want to get back to work and wrap this piece up by tomorrow. I have some shadows to paint, some details and that big deep grey background that will change everything. So I will leave you with les trois chocolates for today. And yes, Brush and I devoured the raspberry one. Rewards, you know I believe in those. Let's just hope the electronic gremlins have had their fun and gone.

Please tell me you reward yourself too. We should you know.

Amy Likes Passion Tea

Yesterday was a business and design day. No Godiva for you today. But Amy likes my photographs and Tazo Passion Tea. If I were still in New Orleans, I'd ask her to stop by or meet me at Still Perkin’ and just chat about nothing for awhile. She wrote an interesting "rant " yesterday about the nets again. And I found myself thinking once more about what it is we get from this connectedness. After the conversations I had this weekend, it is on my mind.

I am an introvert mostly. Can go for days on my own. Lots to do, plenty of inner life. But one of the key ingredients of home, was a little spot two blocks away, a hub, a coffee shop. And my "hood" was a walking one. So there was every reason to expect to meet someone neat if I just stepped out my door. Tourists , locals, friends, acquaintances, some regulars known only by sight. But if you were there, chances are you were okay, except the ones who weren't. But that's another story.

Oddly enough there among the celebs and semi celebs and the just "plain folks", there was an unspoken rule. Everyone was just anyone, just after quality of life. Of course Courtney Love did not last too long, that was never going to work. It is like that in "my adopted hood" in Santa Fe too, although there it's a little different. Surprisingly a little more closed off. And Gerald Peters, never saw him on walkabout, just the peacocks in his yard. My aunt had those too. I thought maybe he's a Southerner. But no, no home baked muffins or an invitation to brunch. He was mostly on his airplane or off selling the Astor Childe Hassam.

What's the point of all this rambling about neighborhoods? Well, Dallas is paved, suburban. People stay in cars. I walk, but it is on a paved and orderly Bike Path that goes through the neighborhood. It's nice. It's comfortable. It is safe. It is dull. But...Amy is in Chicago and shares her wit with me. She would fit right in my Garden District Hood. And there are others, places that I go around these nets, to find that flavor that is missing. That engagement so necessary to my life. She raised the questions yesterday about friendship and faux friendships on the web, about social media, and has come up with this delightful "cut the crap o matic." Yep, she would fit right in.

And here's the takeaway. I once was told to have good friends, you must be a good friend. And that has always worked for me. If you are doing business on the net, it is like business in real life, courtesy, respect, goes a long way. But above all, I have no interest in being anybody but me. So today, I know that when Amy sees this photo she will smile. Can't sell it. You cannot see it. But it is there. In my hood, that smile and simply giving someone pleasure would be a good thing. Like a nice visit, or sharing a cup of tea. So that's my painting today. Just a smile on Amy's face.

Come on Brush, we need to finish up those chocolates...yes, and paint them too....

Do you think "social media" is any different from real life?